Care Package
by imissmymind
Summary: PreSeries. Sam's fight with his father sends the brothers on an awkward ride to Stanford earlier than expected. A surprise from Dean, though, might make his new living quarters seem a bit less lonely.


Chewing his thumbnail, Dean leans forward on the foot of his bed, resting his elbows atop his knees. He hates listening to the two people he cares about more than anything fight, going at each other's throats. The past couple of years have brought fights, but these last couple of months, they've been nearly constant.

It's not like he doesn't see where his dad is coming from. He doesn't want Sam to leave either. Sam is his responsibility, his brother… hell, he practically raised the kid. The thought of him not being there has scared him his entire life. He has protected him from everything, sacrificed himself for Sam over and over and now what? He's just leaving? Going off to college to forget the family he has been raised to fight for?

"You want to leave, Sam? Fine. Great. But if you're going to get gone, you're going to have to stay gone," Dean hears his father scream, causing his mouth to fall agape. "You leave and don't you even think about coming back."

He inhales shakily, knowing whatever hope he had for holding onto any contact with his brother was decimated with that statement. He can understand the other threats, the other accusations, but telling Sammy he can never come back? That's just slamming the door on _everything_. And Dean, frankly, isn't sure how he's going to deal with Sam being gone one night, let alone four years.

The sound of the bedroom door being thrown open causes Dean's attention to snap up from the door, the slumping figure of his brother slamming the door shut. Sam ignores his presence as he staggers over to his side of the room, dropping his weight in one heavy motion onto the edge of his mattress. Dean watches as Sam's eyes skim the floor over to his closet, seemingly overwhelmed as he stares at the small expanse of items he owns.

"I, um…" he begins, his voice cracking and unstable with threatening tears as he stares at his awkwardly folded hands. "He's kicking me out." Dean stares at his brother, licking his bottom lip as Sam glances over to him, stun in his eyes.

"I heard," is all Dean can say. His voice is gruff and slightly cool in nature, not understanding. Not even necessarily sympathetic.

"He said-" Sam begins again, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I know," Dean sighs. "But, Sam, you gotta know… he didn't mean it."

Sam snorts, shaking his head. "Yes he did, Dean. You know he did." Dean clears his throat, inhaling deeply.

"Well, you can't blame him for being mad, man. I mean you… you're sort of abandoning us here."

"Abandoning you?" Sam exclaims, an expression of disbelief coursing through his face. "I'm going to college, Dean. On a full ride. I have a full ride scholarship to one of the best schools in the country and I'm just supposed to turn it down? You know this is what I want, you know it's what I've always wanted. I just don't understand why it's such a shock to you when I finally get it."

"Shocked? Hell yeah, I have a right to be shocked. Dad and I raised you to be loyal. Raised you to fight."

"This has nothing to do with loyalty," Sam seethes through clenched teeth. "And maybe you should check your own loyalties, because right now you're sounding suspiciously like Dad."

"There it is again," Dean murmurs. "Freakin' every single fight…"

"What are you talking about?"

"This," Dean spits. "Every single time you guys fight I'm expected to choose a side. Every single time. And I have to tell you, man, it gets old. Real old. Dad expects me to be on his side, you expect me to be on yours-"

"Well, you won't have to worry about that anymore," Sam murmurs, getting from his bed. He drops to the floor, grabbing his green duffel bag from the closet as he begins to stuff his belongings inside. "Once I'm gone, you won't have to choose. You can be on Dad's side all you want."

"I don't want to be on a side!" the elder exclaims. "Don't you get it, Sam? It isn't about sides."

"Right. It's about Dad disowning me and you agreeing with him," Sam snaps, shoving another t-shirt into the nylon zippered bag. For several moments, Dean can do nothing but stare. Is that really what Sam thinks? _Of course it is_.

"I don't agree with him," Dean begins, voice even. "_He _doesn't even agree with him. He's just mad, Sam. That's it. He doesn't mean it."

"Doesn't matter. He kicked me out and I'm not coming back," Sam's voice is constricted in his throat, probably with the tears that Dean imagines are spilling over, but can't see with Sam's back to him.

"So what, that's it? Just going to run off to California and pretend to be normal? You're not normal, Sam, you're never going to be _normal_."

"Yeah, well, then I'm going to be the closest I can be," Sam meets his eyes coldly, tossing his duffel bag on the bed. "Dad made it quite clear, Dean. I'm gone." The two stare at each other, each so sure on the issue that neither is willing to back down.

"You're waiting until morning," Dean clears his throat gruffly, more of a statement than a question.

"I'm leaving. Now."

"It's past midnight, Sam. What exactly are you planning on doing? Hitchhiking?"

"Maybe," Sam offers in a small voice, tears slicking his eyes. "I can't stay here, Dean. I can't." The older boy studies him for a long moment, taking in the pure misery on the younger boy's face before sighing.

"I'll take you." The words cause Sam's eyes to snap up to Dean's, half-hopeful and half-reluctant.

"Dad mentioned another gig. Some haunting in Oswega," he murmurs. "He'll want you to go with him."

"Said I'll take you," Dean repeats a bit louder, locking his eyes with Sam's so he can see he isn't bending on the issue.

"Okay," Sam says, a sad smile barely mustering the strength to tug up the corners of his lips. "I just need to grab some things, I'll be right back."

Dean nods, watching sullenly as his little brother leaves the room. Inhaling a deep yet shaky breath, he lets it out in a sigh.

The ride itself is an awkward one, the distance between the two brothers in the Impala well exceeding the inches between their two seats. Sam can't remember a more awkward ride, at least not concerning he and his brother. Sure there have been plenty of awkward ones with his father, the two of them seemingly unable to do anything but fight, but Dean… Dean was always the calming force. The combatant of awkward situations, the one who always knew the exact moment between Sam needing space and Sam wanting him to make things better. Now, however, his older brother seems stationed in the idea of giving him space, hardly saying anything during the six-hour drive.

"Thanks, you know, for taking me," Sam clears his throat as the Impala pulls up alongside the curb, the early morning rays pushing through the windows and over the interior. He glances out the window, looking out upon the front lawn of his dormitory, the perfectly manicured lawn sprawling over lazy hills. The sunlight seems to fall perfectly along the large, half-brick, half-white siding-covered building, causing it to seem inviting despite its intimidating size. Yeah, this could just feel like home.

"Yep," is all Dean offers in return, leaning back against the driver's seat with his lips tightly pursed. Sam nods, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he glances from the passenger side back to Dean. He half-expects his brother to break out into a smile, delivering some lame, completely _Dean _comment that would send the two into the comfortable territory of well-intentioned brotherly bickering, but he does no such thing. Instead, his brother sits stoic, staring out the windshield before lazily glancing to his brother.

"Oughta get going, huh?"

The lack of emotion behind the question causes Sam's breath to hitch in his throat and he swallows hard, tears once again threatening to push their way through. He isn't ready for this yet, this can't be the moment that's going to serve as his send-off, Dean pissed at him and wanting him gone. This isn't the way it's supposed to happen. Normal families are there to move their kids in, to help them settle in with a smile and tell them that they're proud. Now, Sam knows his family is the furthest thing from normal, but the closest thing to normal he's got is Dean and Dean wants no part of this.

"Yeah, I uh… you're right," Sam exhales, his voice tiny and weak, cracking as he turns from his brother. He pushes the door open, blinking back the tears that threaten to fall in rapid succession. Swallowing hard, he grabs two of his duffle bags from the back seat, eying the third before deciding this is going to require another trip. Laying the bag on the grass, he takes a deep breath in, chewing his lip before nodding to his brother through the rolled-down passenger side window.

"I, um… I'm going to have to make another trip, but you can leave if you want," his eyes focus on the floor of the Impala, steadfastly avoiding Dean's. "I guess… I mean… make sure you take care of yourself. Don't do anything stupid, alright?" Dean nods with a hint of a shrug and Sam nods at him once more. Tears well in his eyes again as he turns from the car and starts trekking up the lawn to his new home.

"Hey." The word stops Sam in his tracks, causing him to glance back towards the Impala. "You want some help hauling this stuff in?"

Breaking out in a wide smile, Sam nods. "Yeah. That'd be great." He watches as Dean gets from the car, sliding the keys in his pocket before picking up the duffle bag Sam had left on the ground and easily slinging it over his shoulder. Sam waits until his brother catches up with him before continuing his march up the sloping lawn. The two don't say anything, just concentrate on making it to the front door.

"Where's this room of yours?" Dean asks, throwing open the door and holding it for the more hunkered down of the two brothers.

"Uh… second floor," Sam says, deciding on the nearest flight of stairs. "204." Dean follows close behind the younger boy, thankful that the room isn't hard to find once they hit the landing. Sam inhales deeply, retrieving his key before sliding it into the lock. It clicks and the door opens, revealing a small, square-shaped room with two beds, stark white walls and stained brown carpet. Sam's face morphs into a combination of disgust and disappointment and Dean chuckles as he steps beside him.

"Nice place."

"Yeah, it's great."

"Eh," Dean shrugs, tossing the duffel bag on the bed furthest from the door out of instinct. "We've lived in worse."

"True." The two stand in an awkward silence once more before Dean finally breaks it.

"Well, I should probably get going…"

"You don't have to," Sam pleads, using his signature puppy dog eyes on his older brother. "I mean, you should at least get some sleep first. There's an extra bed; my roommate isn't here yet." Sam takes in his brother's appearing, knowing well that he must be completely exhausted, a point further demonstrated by the dark bags that have taken up residence under his eyes.

"Sammy, you know I can't," Dean sighs, a sad smile on his lips. "Dad's expecting me. Have to go hunt that thing in Oswega, remember?"

"Oh," Sam nods disappointedly, "Yeah. I forgot." Actually, he didn't forget. He was just hoping Dean wouldn't remember.

"Yeah," Dean licks his lips. "So, uh… I guess I'll be seeing you, huh?"

"Yeah," Sam whispers, forcing a small smile. Dean clears his throat before continuing.

"Well take care of yourself, okay? You know my number, you call if you need anything?"

"Yeah, of course," Sam nods with a smile. "Thanks."

"For what?" Dean asks, his eyebrows furrowed slightly in confusion.

"For everything," Sam begins. "For taking me here. Not hating me like Dad does-" At that, Dean's mouth snaps open to protect, causing Sam to correct quickly, "For not being _mad _at me like Dad is. I just… I just wanted to say thanks."

"No problem," Dean smiles, taking a step towards the door while looking to his younger brother as if he's considering a hug. Instead he offers him a sad smile, placing his hand on his shoulder momentarily before opening the door. "Bye," he clears his throat.

"Bye Dean," Sam whispers, the two of them meeting eyes before Dean nods, closing the door behind him.

As soon as the door is closed, Sam lets his breath out in a shaky woosh, closing his damp eyes. The heels of his hands find their way to his forehead, sliding down his face before he trusts himself to open his eyes and look around the room. He takes a sluggish step towards the pile of duffle bags, his eyebrows furrowing as he notices an extra bag, a Super Saver grocery bag.

Kneeling down, he cautiously studies the bag, swallowing hard before carefully working to untie the big knot on top. As soon as the bag is open, however, Sam breaks out in a big smile.

Inside are various items- a small dagger in a plastic sheath, a pack of cards, some poker chips. A care package. A couple of magazines lay at the bottom, x-rated, of course, and Sam can't help but smile at the sheer Dean-ness of the items enclosed. A bag of Skittles, a bag of peanut M&M's, which Sam is shocked to discover haven't been open, and a nice wad of twenties.

Perhaps most importantly of all is the picture frame, plain and black in nature, enclosing a fairly recent picture of the brothers, leaning into each other with shoulders touching, wide smiles on their faces. A small laugh escapes Sam at the sight of the picture because, God, they look so _happy_. Pulling the picture from the sack triggers a reaction, a small piece of paper floating downwards from the photo.

In Dean's handwriting it reads,

_Sammy:_

_Hey couldn't let you go off to college as a total loser. You always were one to forget the __really__ important stuff. Anyway, be careful and have fun. Not the studying and textbooks sort of thing, but the important studying, you know… chicks at bars. Anatomy. Gotta have fun every once in awhile little brother._

_Dean._

A wide smile on Sam's face, he tucks the small piece of paper into the frame, effectively covering the side with his shirt but not obstructing the photograph. Looking around the room for a place to put it, he decides on his desk. God knows he'll be spending enough time there. He carefully angles the frame on the white surface, giving a nod of satisfaction when he's done.

Glancing around the room once more he decides it might not be so bad. It's starting to feel more like home already.

**Written for Surprise on my SPN13 table on Livejournal. Just a random idea that came to me a couple weeks ago. I started it, then gave up on it, then wrote four pages last night off of some random motivation spree.**

**Anyway, thanks for giving it a read. I'd really appreciate it if you could review, I love your input.**


End file.
